


Mine

by nepiddle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Omorashi, Pop Psychology, Possessive Behavior, Roommates, Wetting, coping behaviors, lap wetting, recovering from emotional abuse, wetting on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepiddle/pseuds/nepiddle
Summary: Aspen is surprised by her roommate Kay's strange behavior. But she's also turned on by it? Both of them have weird feelings to work through.





	Mine

I was given no sign that this would happen. My roommate was cute as a button and polite as an aristocrat. I never thought she had it in her to be so possessive and rash.

But I guess a switch flipped one day. I was sitting on the couch when out of nowhere she shoved me off. She could've flashed a Dark Mark tattoo and I wouldn't have been more surprised.

“This is _my_ couch spot,” she all but growled at me. And then a dark patch appeared between her legs. It grew and I realized what was happening. Kay was peeing on her spot. I watched the dampness seep into the cushion as she stared me down with a defiant look.

My heart rate took off like a helicopter and I could feel my face heat up. I had no idea why my roommate had adopted such canine territoriality, but I found it . . . really hot? So weird.

Not knowing what else to say, I asked, “You _are_ gonna clean that up, right?”

“Duh,” she sneered at me. “It's _my_ couch spot.” Then she ripped the cushion off the couch and marched off, her pants dripping pee.

I didn't get up off the floor for several minutes. I felt like I'd been hit by a train.

Polite Kay returned shortly before dinner with an apology. “I'm so sorry, Aspen,” she said. “I don't know what came over me. You didn't deserve to be shoved around . . . or watch me pee my pants . . .” She blushed furiously.

She looked so cute like that. I brushed one of her dark curls away from her face and said, “No worries. People do weird shit sometimes. You didn't hurt my feelings or anything, so you don't have to feel bad.” She had opposite-of-hurt my feelings. I might even be developing a crush on her. I mean, I'd always thought she was good-looking, but this episode was bringing up emotions I hadn't realized were there.

“Thanks for being nice about it,” she said.

While we ate, Kay told me about the cleaning solution she used on the couch cushion. “It'll sterilize the cushion and break down the urea,” she said, “but it won't make the color fade or leave any kind of stain or watermark.”

Did I mention she was a brilliant chemist too?

“Don't move,” I told her when we were done. “I'll get the dishes.”

She stiffened, and her lip curled. “Oh, I can't move now, can I?” she said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to -”

“No, it's fine,” she said. “I _won't_ move. In fact, this’ll be my chair forever. _My_ chair.”

I heard a trickle of liquid coming from the plastic chair. I walked around the table and watched a puddle form around Kay’s thin gray sweatpants. Her pee started to trickle onto the tile floor.

I looked back up at her face just in time to see her smirk fade into a grimace. “Oh no,” she said. “I did it again. You must think I'm crazy . . .”

Her pee was still splattering on the floor and I had a hard time taking my eyes off it, especially her glistening thighs.

It took me a second to find my words. When I finally said, “No,” it came out hoarse. I had to clear my throat. “No, this doesn't make you crazy. And even if you were, being crazy isn't bad. It's just different.”

“You're right,” she said quietly. “I'll clean this up. You get the dishes.”

That was far from the last time she claimed something with her pee. I learned to avoid her “territory,” more for her own peace of mind than anything else. She got so upset every time, and as cute as it could be to see her embarrassed, I could tell it really bothered her.

One day I left my shoes on her favorite rug, and she tossed the shoes away before squatting over the rug and letting loose. She was wearing short shorts this time, and I watched her pee leak out the legs of her shorts as well as her crotch. I enjoyed watching the growing puddle, and I clenched my own legs together.

Kay groaned and collapsed in her own pee. “I'm so tired of doing laundry. Why do I have to be like this?”

“It must be frustrating, not having complete control over yourself,” I said sympathetically.

“That's the thing though,” said Kay. "I think I do have some control over it.”

“Really,” I said. I found that difficult to believe.

“Really,” she said back. “I've been talking to my therapist and I realized I never do this in public, or when you're not around. I've never peed on anything that would be damaged by it either. Not on a book, or electronics . . . only things I can clean up, and only when I'm home alone with you. That, combined with the fact that I'm always rude to you beforehand . . . makes me feel like I'm turning into my father.”

“Your father?” I'd only heard her mention him once, and she'd called him an asshole. It shocked me because I'd never heard her swear before, not because she was talking about her dad. A lot of people have had crappy parents.

“Yeah. I hated living with him. The tiniest thing would set him off. He'd start yelling at us and accusing us of all kinds of things. Sometimes I'd come home and something of mine was gone. I'd lost the privilege of using it. Somehow. He always gave the dumbest excuses.”

“That's awful,” I said.

“And now I'm doing the same thing,” she choked out. Her eyes looked watery.

“No,” I said. “It's not the same.”

“Please don't,” she said tearily. “You don't have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I'm not lying,” I said firmly. “You've never insulted me or called me names. You've never peed on anything of mine. Only your things.”

“I've peed on things we share.”

“Yeah, but only on your half of the thing. And maybe . . . maybe . . .” A thought was coming to me, forming on the periphery of my consciousness.

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe this is like . . . a coping mechanism. For how he treated you. Maybe you're letting out all this repressed anger and . . . protecting your stuff. From being taken again.”

She sighed. “My therapist said something like that. But even if it's true, my coping mechanism isn't an excuse for hurting you.”

“But you're not hurting me,” I blurted out.

“Oh, I'm not?”

“You're not,” I assured her. Then I paused. Should I tell her that her peeing turned me on? I wasn't sure. It felt like a dick move to sexualize someone’s coping mechanism. And I was afraid of admitting my feelings for her. So I just said, “I promise I'm not lying.”

“You're sure?”

I looked her straight in the eye. “I'm sure.”

After that, she started getting less and less upset every time she peed. One time I touched a teddy bear of hers, and she snatched it away from me, jammed it between her legs, and peed right into it. Her pee soaked through the teddy bear and dribbled onto the carpet. One by one each of her stuffed animals eventually received this treatment. She let me help her clean up.

Once while I was helping, I “accidentally” tripped and fell into one of her puddles. It was still nice and warm. I loved the feeling of it soaking into my clothes. I started “accidentally” touching stuff I knew she would pee on, because I loved watching her so much.

I started thinking about Kay and about pee all the time. The images of her warm pee kept me up at night. One especially unbearable night, I decided to try wetting my own bed. It would be the first time I had purposefully wet myself. I snuck into the kitchen and drank several cupfuls of water, then snuggled under the covers with deep anticipation.

I was so excited I couldn't relax enough to release my pee. But eventually I was able to let go. Pee trickled between my thighs and warmed my sheets and bed cover. I had stuffed a few towels underneath my fitted sheet so I would have to clean the mattress as little as possible. I felt my pee soak into them too. I flipped onto my stomach while peeing and some of it even got on my shirt. Soon I was awash in my glorious puddle.

I didn't get up to start the laundry right away. The relief from finally letting go and my lack of sleep caught up to me. I passed out long before my pee grew cold.

I had to pee more when I woke up, so I sleepily soaked my sheets again. It was a great start to the morning.

As I took the sheets off my bed, I realized that Kay hadn't wet her bed in front of me yet. I hadn't touched her bed since this pee thing started. A plan came to me, and I shivered. Would I be brave enough to pull it off?

Suddenly the door swung open. “Hey, Aspen, do you have -” Kay stopped short when she noticed my wet pajamas and sheets.

Though I felt my face heat up, I decided to play it cool. “Do I have what?” I asked her.

“Uh . . . nothing,” said Kay. “I . . . I, uh, I didn't know you had a bedwetting problem.”

“I don't,” I answered. “This was the first time since I was a little kid.”

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Do you want help?”

“Sure. Could you hand me that laundry basket?”

I took off the fitted sheet and then realized she would see the towels. She wouldn't think this was a one-off accident when she saw that I had used some kind of protection. So I decided to tell her the truth. Or some of it, anyway.

“I wet the bed on purpose,” I told her.

“You did? Why?”

“Well . . . I see your face when you pee.  You look like you're enjoying yourself. So I guess I wanted to try it.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you like it?”

I met her eyes, and she was looking at me with some hope. I could tell she wanted me to like it.

I smiled. “Yeah. I really did.”

She smiled back. “And do you like it when I pee?”

Could I lie? “Yes.”

“I thought you did,” she said. “I've noticed how you look at me when I do it.”

Aw man. And I thought I'd been playing it cool, too. “I'm not creeping you out, am I?”

“No! No. I - I _like_ how you look at me,” she said. “No one's ever looked at me quite the same way.”

I wanted to kiss her right then. But before I could work up the courage to do it, she said, “I've been thinking about what you said? About the coping mechanism thing? And I've been wondering, why am I only letting out my anger now? Why not when I was actually living with my dad? Or when I was living with Andrew, or Eileen? And I think it's because I've never been in a place where I felt like I could let out my ugly feelings before. It's never felt safe.”

Was she saying what I thought she was saying? “So you feel safe with me?”

She nodded, but before I could answer, her phone rang. With an apologetic smile, she took her phone into the hallway.

I had changed and was loading my wet laundry into the dryer when Kay told me she had been called in to work.

“But maybe we can talk more later?” she asked hopefully.

“Definitely,” I said.

I had decided to put my plan into place. When she came home she found me sitting on her bed.

“You _know_ that's _my bed_!” she yelled, and I let her shove me off it. Her work pants were black to begin with, but I caught the glistening of her pee and watched the dark spot travel across her mint green bedspread.

She was still peeing when I asked, “What about me?”

She frowned. “What _about_ you?”

“Do you want me to be yours? Because I want you to be mine. Romantically, I mean.”

Her mouth dropped open and the slight hissing I heard from her pee cut off. Then her whole face lit up.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes, I want you.”

“Can I join you on the bed then?”

She nodded.

I wasted no time in pressing my body against hers. I straddled her lap, letting the dampness seep into my pants as well. I placed my lips on hers, and her body leaned into mine.

Soon I had her moaning slightly as my tongue glided along the inside of her lower lip. At that moment, I started peeing. She broke off our kiss with a gasp.

After a glance between our bodies, Kay understood what was happening. She started giggling, which made me smile wider. I traced a finger down her laughing jaw.

“You're _my_ Kay,” I said, then I started kissing her again.

I finished peeing long before we stopped kissing. By then I had eased Kay down so I was lying on top of her.

“I can't believe this is happening,” Kay said breathlessly. “I've wanted this for so long and now it's real.”

I smiled. “Me too.”

“You know what else I want?” she asked.

“What?”

With a strength I had no idea she possessed, she flipped me over so she was on top. I gasped in surprise as she lowered her mouth to whisper in my ear.

“I want to make you mine, too.”

My crotch, which had started to get cold, suddenly was rewet with warm pee. I moaned in satisfaction. “You're _my_ Aspen,” she whispered, with the same fierceness as if she'd yelled it aloud.

She didn't pee on me very much, since she'd already emptied a good portion of her bladder. That was fine with me. Her lips were enough to keep me occupied. She'd have plenty more chances to pee on me, anyway.

God, I hoped it would be soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a lot of this while wetting.


End file.
